"Well," Jack answered dejectedly, "tell us what we could have done differently."
"I'm not blaming any one," replied John.
Billy Porter rose briskly.
"You boys quit your kicking. The scent is still warm. You fellows get a couple of hours' sleep while I take the horses back to Coyote Hole for water. By daylight we got to be on the south side of the mesa to pick up the trail."
Billy's businesslike manner heartened Jack and John DeWitt. They turned in beside Carlos, who already was sleeping.
Dawn found them examining the ascents on the south side of the mesa but they found no traces and as the sun came well up they followed the only possible way toward the mountains. At noon they found a low spring in a pocket between mesa and mountain. Kut-le was growing either defiant or careless, for he had left a heap of ashes and a pile of half-eaten desert mice. Very much cheered they allowed the horses a fair rest. They found no further traces of camp or trail that day and made camp that night in the open desert.
At dawn they were crossing a heavily wooded mountain. The sun had not yet risen when they heard a sound of singing.
"What's that?" asked DeWitt sharply, as the four pulled up their horses.
"A medicine cry," answered Jack. "We must be near some medicine-man's campos."
"Come on," cried DeWitt, "we'll quiz them!"